Their Commonplace Days
by Elfian Aqua
Summary: A series of shorts that gives you a peek into the everyday lives of the Gundam crew. This week: Catherine, Quatre, and Trowa
1. Joke's on You

**Disclaimer** - I don't own the Gundam Wing characters.

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**Joke's on You**

Relena and Heero sat on the couch in front of the television in the small living room of Heero's apartment. Relena, many times over, had offered to give him money for a larger apartment (she would have offered him a room in her mansion, but she felt Heero would somehow end up cramping her style), but Heero always refused. "Your money would only cramp my style," he'd tell her. _The nerve!_—Relena would think.

But today, as Relena watched an action movie with her boyfriend, she thought of only amorous things. Enraptured by her self-imposed romantic mood, she turned to ask Heero the one question she always did during such heartfelt moments.

"Heero?"

"Relena?"

Relena, who'd turned a smiling face to Heero, now frowned—the thrill was gone. She'd been about to ask him if he wanted to kill her, but now decided a more important question needed asking. "Why do you always do that?"

Heero who'd been frowning since he was born, continued frowning. "Do what?"

"Say my name after I say yours. I mean, you could say _yes_, _yeah_, or _what woman?_ But instead you say my name? And every time you do that, I feel like my name isn't my name anymore, but some word in the dictionary with some boring definition attached to it. And I'm not boring Heero. I'm not."

Heero stared at her. Relena stared at him. "Well," she demanded. "Why do you do it?"

Intensity as deep as the ocean filled Heero's eyes. "Because instead of using a boring word with a boring definition, I'd rather use your name, Relena. Your name, which means so much to me."

Relena's breath caught in her throat. "Really?"

Heero tenderly cupped Relena's face and smiled. "No."

Relena stormed out of the apartment.

Heero smiled wider, then laughed.


	2. Unaware of the Leech

**Unaware of the Leech**

Hilde set the bag of groceries on her kitchen's counter. Taking the food items from the bag, she frowned. This month's grocery bill didn't add up. It seemed she'd bought to buy twice the amount of food that she'd purchased last month. But why when she ate the same amount as always. Was someone breaking into her house and stealing her food?

Finished putting away the groceries, Hilde washed her hands and got started on dinner. Unconsciously, she took out enough chicken for two.

The chicken was put in the microwave to defrost, and Hilde moved on to slicing the vegetables. Starting with the onion, Hilde wondered what she could do to cut her electric bill in half. It, too, had doubled. She'd called the electric company and asked if they'd raised their prices. They hadn't.

"Maybe someone really is breaking into my house," she wondered aloud. A few days ago she found the air-conditioner running full blast when she arrived home; Hilde, a stickler for conserving energy, always made sure to turn all appliances off before heading out. And then there was yesterday when she'd come out of her room for a snack; the kitchen's faucet was left dripping. If these occurrences really were the result of repeated break-ins, someone was breaking into her house not just when she was out but also when she was in. She shuddered at the thought.

"But that's silly," she told herself. If someone was breaking into her house, why would they steal food, electricity and water?

No, the cause had to be her own carelessness. Surely she'd left the water running at the sink. But then could your water bill really double because you'd left the water running a couple times?

"Hey, Hilde?" Duo waltzed into the kitchen, clad in a towel and long, luxurious hair hanging loosely down his back. He was a pleasant distraction from unpleasant thoughts.

"Duo,"—she gave him a quick once-over before looking away—"how many times do I have to tell you to come out of the bathroom with your clothes on?"

"Oh, come on. You know you like what you see." He swaggered to the fridge, pulled out a freshly bought bottle of soda, and took a large gulp. "Ah, that really hits the spot."

Hilde maneuvered around him to retrieve the defrosted chicken from the microwave. "Duo, put that down and put some clothes on."

"I would, but they're in your dryer."

"And why are they there," she demanded, calmly cutting the chicken breasts into cubes.

"Well, I was making a smoothie but didn't close the blender properly and it got all over me. So you see…"

"Oh, I see. You're making yourself quite at home."

Duo chuckled, storing his half finished bottle in the fridge. "Isn't that why you gave me that key?"

Hilde blushed, embarrassed by the memory of her boldness the night she'd presented it to him. "Nope." She slid the chicken cubes into the sauté pan. "I gave it to you so you could come clean while I'm at work."

"Sorry, Hilde, but I don't think I'll quit my job to clean up after you."

"Aw, but you'd do such a great job."

He came up behind her. "You're making some of that for me, right?"

"Maybe."

Duo nuzzled her neck. "Please," he purred. Hilde groaned and leaned into him. Duo wrapped his arms around her waist. "Hilde—"

Abruptly, Hilde straightened. She could hear the faint sound of running water. "Hey! Is that the shower?"

"Sorry, sorry. I forgot to turn it off." He pulled away from her. Making sure to hold his towel firmly round his hips, he jogged out of the kitchen. Hilde watched, partly hoping the towel would fall. It didn't, so she turned back to the chicken, smiling.

Then she frowned, her focus returning to her previous thoughts. "Those bills don't make sense."


	3. Laughter is the Best Medicine

**Laughter is the Best Medicine**

Catherine opened the trailer's door and greeted the blond who stood outside, umbrella up and protecting him from the rain. "How is he," Quatre asked.

Catherine shook her head and motioned him inside. "He still hasn't come out of bed."

Quatre frowned and shrugged out of his coat, handing it and his umbrella to Catherine, who hurriedly stuffed them into the closet before ushering him down the tiny hall to Trowa's room. Outside the room, Quatre stopped Catherine from opening the door. "I'm not quite sure I understand," he said. He whispered so as not to disturb his friend on the other side of the door. "Trowa is upset because no one laughed at him?"

Catherine nodded. She too spoke in a hushed voice. "He's a_ clown_, Quatre."

"But I thought that he performed acrobats . That's not really supposed to make people laugh."

"Well..." Catherine bit her lip and glanced at Trowa's door. "Well, we decided to change his routine a little. He and I were supposed to do a comedy act together—throwing pies, flowers spraying water, and jokes."

Quatre nodded. "Then that explains why no one laughed. Flowers spraying water?"

Catherine shook her head. "No, no. The pies and flowers went over really well. It was the jokes that they didn't like...or rather _his_ joke." Quatre's brows lifted in curiosity. Catherine elaborated. "Before the show, I told him it would be okay if he improvised on the jokes a little. So when it came time for him to ask me a joke he…" Catherine paused, closing her eyes and shaking her head at the memory. "He asked me, 'How does it feel when a machine self destructs?'"

"How does it feel," Quatre asked.

"That's what I asked, and he replied, 'It hurts like heck.'" Quatre was silent. "He said _heck_ to make it kid friendly," Catherine said after a moment. "But the joke still left them and their parents somewhat disturbed."

Quatre nodded. "I understand." Placing his hand on the doorknob he said, "Maybe he shouldn't improvise anymore."

"He won't. He's back to doing just acrobats with the lion for now." Quatre opened the door, but before he could go in, Catherine whispered in a voice so hushed that he almost didn't hear, "Laugh for him."

Trowa's room was dark, but Quatre could make out the clown's form curled beneath the blankets on the bed. Quatre pulled a chair from the desk, crammed between the wall and bed, and sat on it. "Trowa," he said gently. "It's me, Quatre."

Trowa remained silent.

"Catherine said you're not feeling well. What's the matter?"

Trowa shifted slightly. "She didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

Trowa said nothing for several moments. Then, sitting up, he said, "Can I tell you a joke?"

"Of course."

"How does it feel when a machine self destructs?"

Quatre smiled and was glad for the dark. "I don't know. How does it feel?"

Back rigid, head hunched, Trowa spoke slowly, almost as if fearing a repeat of that night's scalding silence. "It hurts like heck."

Loud laughter filled the small trailer. Catherine—standing outside the room—and Trowa—gloom lifting—smiled.


End file.
